


all the ashes in my wake

by Bibridger



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Ezra Bridger Needs a Hug, Gen, Lothal Culture, Post-Episode: s02e21-22 Twilight of the Apprentice, Self-Hatred, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27511597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bibridger/pseuds/Bibridger
Summary: "I'll never hurt my family."What a sad, pathetic lie that had been.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 62





	all the ashes in my wake

Ezra sits in his bunk. 

It wasn't a rare sight to see, not in the slightest. 

The image of the boy curled up, knees drawn to his chest and head buried in his knees had become more and more common as of late. 

Ezra knew when they came by, he could hear the soft _woosh_ of the door and feel the pity radiating through the force. Sometimes they would talk, say something along the lines of _"how are you feeling?"_ or _"do you want to talk?"._

But mostly there would be silence, they already knew what his answer would be. 

_"I'm fine."_

He was fine, he had to be. It had been three months since Malachor, three long, painful months.

He knew it had been too long for him to still feel this way. Too long to still feel the cold tendrils of grief and blame curl around his chest. The light that used to be the force felt completely foreign, he knows it died with Ahsoka. 

Ahsoka was one of the many people to fill his mind as of late. He thinks about her, her warm smile, the way she was supportive to everyone around her, the way she would fill a room with authority and respect. He tries to think of the good things about her, the things her loved ones would remember. 

The things they would hate him forever for taking away from them. 

Every time he thinks about her, he thinks about Vader, the temple and the explosion. 

He thinks about how it should have been him. 

He thinks about how much he would have loved to crawl back to that hole he fell into and stay there. To hide away. having a roommate didn't exactly help with his brooding and those _kriffing_ spiders didn't let him stray far away enough to be alone. 

So he settles for hating himself in the comfort of his own bunk. 

Though Ahsoka isn't the only thing he thinks of, no, he's got a lot more to feel sorry for. 

He tries to focus on other things, his broken lightsaber, the sith Holocron whispering to him from the other side of the room, the threat of maul still looming over them. 

But no matter what, his thoughts always wander back to Kanan. 

No matter how hard he's tried to block him out, how hard he avoids him at dinner or around the ship. He's always on his mind. 

He knows he should feel guilty about blocking him out, but why should he?. Kanan raised his shields the minute they got on the phantom and hasn't lowered them since. Kanan won't even talk to him, they haven't had a proper conversation since the night they got back. 

Of course, he couldn't blame him, how could he?. The man had every right to hate his guts. 

Ezra could feel Kanan's grief, his loneliness and regret. Ezra knew where the root of these emotions were coming from. He could feel Kanan's regret, regret that he brought Ezra to malachor, regret that he ever took him on as his student, regret that he even meet Ezra on Lothal. 

Though if Ezra had to admit it, he was happy, happy that Kanan had blocked him out, happy that Kanan wouldn't even give him the time of day. At least he wouldn't have to deal with his failure of a Padawan anymore.

At least Ezra didn't have to look him in the eyes. 

He had seen them, on _the Phantom_. The wound needed to be wrapped, Kanan insisted on doing it himself. 

_"Ezra, I'm sorry I just... I- I don't want you to see this..."_

Though, the only words that entered Ezra's ears were...

_"You're too weak to Handle what you did to me."_

But no, Kanan was in no condition to deal with this alone. Ezra had already let Kanan comfort him, _Kanan_ , who was bleeding from the eyes, had to hold him like a pathetic child as he cried. 

He remembers seeing the wound, the bloody mess that used to be Kanan's eyes staring back at him. He remembers wrapping them, his master's gentle hand never leaving his shoulder as his whole body shook. 

He had broken down the minute it was done, sinking to _the phantom's_ floor, a flurry of pain, grief and _guilt_ , pure, unfiltered _guilt_ , threatened to swallow him whole. 

But Kanan was there, the only thing holding him together was his master's arms, but now Kanan might as well be gone, he wasn't there to ward off the cold of the Darkside. 

Three month later, Ezra realizes how much he misses his master. 

Ezra force's eyes open. No use in trying to sleep now, he really wasn't in the mood for another nightmare. 

He pushes himself into a sitting position, he can hear Zeb snoring away on the bottom bunk. Was it the night cycle already?. He couldn't remember. He Wonders if his lack of memory lately has something to do with the Holocron, but it's not like he's complaining, if that thing can erase his memory of malachor, he would be more than happy to oblige. 

Ezra jumps down to his feet, he lets them take him away, his mind to consumed to argue with his body anyway. He finds himself in the fresher, looking at himself in the mirror. 

He's a mess, he hadn't changed out of his pyjamas in days, the bags under his eyes had gotten more prominent, his skin was pale, a sickly green undertone plaguing his completion. 

He studies his hair, the shaggy dark locks hang in front of his face. It had gotten a lot longer in the past months, the dark strands now reaching his shoulders, greasy from lack of showering. 

Showers seemed useless to Ezra now, he couldn't wash away the shame no matter hard he scrubbed. 

_Shame_

The word rings in his ears

_Shame_

_"Papa, what happened to that man's hair?"_

_A six-year-old Ezra tugs on his father's sleeve, trying to get his attention._

_Ezra stares at the man, he'd never seen hair like that before, it wasn't like his or his Papa's, there was none on his head, the man's locks shaved down to a stubble._

_He feels his father's hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer as they walked down the market, guiding him away from the man._

_"What have we said about staring, Ezra?"_

_But Ezra wasn't going to give up just yet. He was always a curious child, stopping to talk to every stranger or Loth-cat he came across. He tugged harder on his sleeve_

_"But papa, you said our hair was special? why does he not have any?" The boy asked confused. He watches as his father gets down to his knees, eye level with his son._

_Ephraim sighs, "It is, our hair signifies honour, but some people..." he pauses. "some people don't deserve that honour..."_

_Ezra thinks back to about a year ago when his father sat him down and taught him lothal's culture, spending hours explaining the significance of keeping your hair below your ears or why he had to wear those silly clothes on harvest day._

_"Ezra, when you see a man with hair that Short, it means He's brought shame to his family, it signifies betrayal."_

_Ezra didn't know what half those words meant, but by his father's tone, he knew they must be bad._

_The hardness in his Ephraim's eyes made his son curiosity Spike_

_"So he's a bad man? Like the troopers?" Ezra asks a bit too loud for his father's liking. Ephraim quickly shushes the boy, getting to his feet and guiding his son the next market stall._

_"Not necessarily, but family is important on Lothal, it's scared. when you betray them you must pay a price."_

_Ezra decides it's best to not ask any more questions, but his mind still raced. Why would anyone ever do something to hurt their family? Ezra loved his parents, his young mind couldn't grasp the concept of ever losing their trust._

_"I'll never hurt my family." The six-year-old says, earning a chuckle from his Father._

_"I know you won't Ezra, I know you won't."_

The weight of the seniors in his hand pulls him out of the memory. He grips them tight, staring at the object like it's about to grow teeth and eat him alive. 

Ezra's eyes meet his reflection in the minor, he sees his cheeks stained with tears, messy hair blocking his eyes. 

He grabs the first clump of hair, gripping it tightly in his hand. His chest heaves as another shaky hand travels to his head. 

He makes the first cut.

Then the second.

Then the third. 

His hair falls to the ground in large, uneven clumps as a symphony of guilt and blame play in his head. 

_It's your fault._

Snip 

_She's dead because of you._

Snip 

_He's blind, he's in pain every day because of what you did._

Snip 

_You trusted a monster over your own Master._

Snip

_He loved you, he trusted you and look where that got him._

The tears roll down his cheeks as the hair falls to the ground. The anger sets in, Making him snip faster. 

_"I'll never hurt my family."_

What a sad, pathetic lie that had been. 

He hurt them, hurt them all. Not just Kanan, everyone on the ship was suffering. There was no more laughter, no more banter at breakfast or holo-film nights. 

_The Ghost_ had become a real ghost, a shell of its former self, devoid of the light and joy it used to carry across the galaxy. 

He could see how it affected them. Sabine didn't paint anymore, no longer would you hear her music blaring from her bunk as she worked on her latest piece, Ezra missed the way Sabine's hurried footsteps would sound as she yelled his name from across the ship, eager to get his opinion on a specific shade of purple or something along those lines. 

He heard her talking to Zeb one night, _"what's the point of making art if Kanan can't even see it?."_

Ezra didn't leave his cabin for a week after that. 

Zeb tried to act like everything was fine, carrying on in his usual loud manner, but he was different, Kinder, more gentle with Ezra. He didn't tease him anymore, almost as if he was afraid an insult would push the kid over the edge. 

Ezra absolutely hated the pity

Then there was Hera. She was trying so hard, so hard to keep the crew together. She would stay with Kanan, hours on end locked up in their cabin. Ezra saw her when she left him, eyes red and puffy, looking like she was about to fall apart, she had caught his eyes once, quickly changing her frown to a smile, but it _wasn't_ Hera's smile, no. 

Hera's real smile died the moment the medic told her the damage couldn't be undone. 

Ezra already knew what he did to Kanan, there was no unpacking the pain he put him in. 

He hurt them, all of them. The people who took him off the Streets, the people who loved him, who trusted him. He took that trust and threw it out the airlock. 

He betrayed his family, and now he would have to pay the Price. 

He's snapped out of his daze as he looks at himself in the mirror. 

The scissors drop the floor. 

Ezra brings a shaky hand to run through his hair, or lack thereof. The long, floppy locks that used to frame his face were gone, now short, choppy strands were all that were left. It stuck out at every angle, some pieces longer than others, but the important thing was that nothing reached past his ears.

His last true tie to Lothal, to his culture, was gone. 

Ezra lets a deep sob escape his chest. He looks awful, _disgusting_.

At least now the outside matched the inside. 

His hands Shake as a pathetic whine escapes his lips. He stumbles back into the wall, sinking down until he was sitting in the pile of his own hair. 

He thinks about how disappointed his parents would be, he'd just add it to the list of ways he'd let them down. 

A gentle brush at his mind makes him jerk his head up, he knows it's Kanan, he raises his shields higher. He would clean up this mess later, but for now, he was going to sit here, on the cold floor of the fresher, and let the guilt overtake him. 

Maybe he would drown in it, maybe he would resurface. He didn't know, and frankly, he couldn't care less. 

He feels the brush again, this time accompanied by a _'what's wrong?'_ Ezra closes off, sinking deeper into the shame. 

_'Im fine'_

He wants to hold onto the connection, send the feeling of loneliness to his master, that always seemed to get Kanan to his side before. But the last thing he wants right now is for Kanan to see him like this, to see the disappointment his Padawan had become. 

The guilt finally drowns him, tearing at his soul. 

And Ezra finally decides he isn't going to try to resurface.

**Author's Note:**

> UUHHH HELLO!!! uh yea so this is like,, , the first fic Ive ever published so uhhh sorry if it's bad but yea!!! Uhhhh hope you all enjoy it!!!! Shoutout to my friends for yelling at me to post this bc it's been in my drafts for months!!!, But yea,, hope you enjoy the angst!!!


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